


a crack in everything (that's how the light gets in)

by Beguile



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beauty - Freeform, Blasphemy, Chapel Veil, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, church, mild swearing, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beguile/pseuds/Beguile
Summary: Matt ends up covered in a black chapel veil. It's perfect.





	a crack in everything (that's how the light gets in)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the characters and concepts in this story are the property of Marvel and their related affiliates. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr for a prompt. Title is from Leonard Cohen's "Anthem." 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

The boxes take a tumble, thumping against each other hollowly. None of ‘em are real heavy, so Frank’s not so much worried about how Red’s doing as where Red is once they all hit the floor. He tugs at the withered cardboard, at the yards of fabric spilling out of the boxes, eventually finding a flash of Red’s face right before it’s swallowed up again by the mess.

Red manages to get himself free, thank Christ. Frank certainly isn’t making things better, traipsing through the miles of mess they’ve made. Sister Maggie’s gonna have their hides. Send ‘em up to the loft to find an old statue, and now Red’s gone and made a disaster of things. Frank’s throwing him right under the bus.

He’s about to tell Red as much but he’s stopped by the sight. “What?” Red asks, and Frank tells him to shut up, to not move. Frank’s doing the same; he’s barely breathing. Stained glass and dust is playing on the light coming through the window, painting the loft a bloody red, painting _Red_ a bloody red, and there he is, standing oblivious, his head covered in a chapel veil of black lace. His hands raised slightly at his sides, originally in an effort to free himself but now in a gesture of confusion that only makes the sight of him more fucking perfect. Something about seeing him in pieces, in fragments. Something about seeing him in black lace, this delicate thing turned hard by the red light. His rose-coloured glasses gleaming in spite of the dark having overtaken him.

Red asks again, worry shifting in his voice to amusement. He lowers his arms slightly, stopping only when Frank tells him to shut up. He knows, the little shit. Can’t see a damn thing, but Frank’s heart and blood and breathing are telling him the whole damn story. Red hunches his shoulders, letting the pewter of his suit bleed through the black of the lace. He twists his head away, and the back of his neck is exposed, the red light playing off those scarlet motes in his hair.

Frank reaches out to touch, but he stops himself. It’s too fragile, too soft. One touch and the image comes crumbling down. The veil spills to the floor, and they’re Red and Frank again. They’re two idiots in the loft of the church. So Frank takes Red just below the edge of the veil; he presses his face into Red’s scalp, pinning the fabric to Red’s hair, and it’s too much, it’s not enough. The God damn gleam of Red’s glasses, his slight smirk, jagged and fragmented and halfway hidden…shit, Frank pushes him into the window. He goes for a kiss, stopping himself when he realizes that the veil is there, it’s in the way, and he doesn’t want to ruin it, but shit, ruin is what he does best.

He grips the veil in his fists. He shoves his cheek into Red’s forehead. “I want you,” Frank says, “I want you right here, right now, just like this.”

Confession over, Frank pulls away, and he stares down Red, heart hammering desperately in his chest.

Red takes the veil by the edge and folds it in his hands. He slips it into his pocket for later. Frank’s already imagining how it looks in the billboard light of Red’s place, and if the smile on the little shit’s face is any indication, Red is too.

“Let’s get that statue for Maggie,” Red says, “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

* * *

Happy reading!


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